Memorandum est
by TheEphemeralDream
Summary: The death of a teammate is nothing new to Kakashi, but the death of a student? Sakura dies on a mission, and she was the only person who knew all of the late Godaime's medical secrets. Danzo needs these secrets, and there is only one way to retrieve them. But are Sakura's loved ones willing to go this far? Semi KakaSaku, semi KakaxOC.
1. Resurrectio :Awakening:

_Close your eyes. _

_You don't need to remember anything. Not anymore, you see..._

_No, don't cry. There's nothing to cry about. Don't look at me like that – _I'm_ allowed to cry. But not you. _

_You know it'll be over soon, all of this. Don't make it harder on yourself, my love. _

_All right, take one last look at me … I'll allow you that…_

_Now … you know what you have to do. It's what we've prepared for… for so long. You know that…_

_Forget me. Forget them. Forget everything here. _

_Forget yourself. _

_Close your eyes, my love…_

* * *

**Chapter One**

There was a pounding in her head, so potent it was beating a violent tattoo against her cranium. There was no escaping it, because there was nowhere _to_ escape in this consuming darkness.

A flutter. What was this feeling?

It was panic in her chest. _A flutter of panic. _

She could feel her heart clenching, beating erratically, but she felt it as if she was viewing the on-goings within her own body as an outsider. That languidly, she was observing as this heart – _her_ heart – thumped an irregular rhythm, desperate and struggling. She felt oddly detached from it, as if it _wasn't_ hers.

_Feeling_.

She _sensed_ it more than anything else when her neurons and synapses flickered to life, and she could _sense_ that her body lay on a semi-soft but thin mattress, that her arms were straight by her sides, that her muscles were uncomfortable from remaining in the same position and the same orientation for so long.

It wasn't as though she'd moved from that second to the next – it was all suddenly just _there._

The sheets beneath her were coarse linen, soft enough to prevent discomfort but rough enough that it wasn't _really_ comfortable. The same cloth was draped over her arms and torso, conserving the slight warmth she was producing. Her belly felt unusually empty, and her neck ached; the pillow on which her head lay was too high, arching her neck beyond its usual capacity.

_Usual? _Her indolent mind hesitated, confused. The word simply didn't process … in disgust, she shook it off. She didn't _like_ not understanding.

And what was this strange sensation? No … it wasn't really a sensation. It was…

_Smell. _

She inhaled consciously this time, the scents – antiseptic mint jasminelemonfood_blood_ – all mixing together, creating an amalgamation that was almost _unbearable_ at first, but it gradually dimmed, fading to the point that she couldn't discern one scent from another.

Her brain paused again, wondering what all these scents _were_, and how she fitted _names_ to them so quickly. But what did they _mean_?As she thought about it, an image of each came to mind …

_Antiseptic_. A large plastic spray bottle, sitting on a pristine white counter. _Mint_. An entire field of it, green and luscious. _Jasmine_, the white flower framed by green leaves – _lemons_, yellow fruits that squirted a stinging liquid, food from the cafeteria, semi-cold on a late shift at the hospital, blood on the shining silver blades just above a gaping open _wound-!_

Her mouth opened of its own accord and she gulped a large mouthful of air – that, _thankfully_, didn't smell of anything this way. She breathed deeply, simultaneously trying to expel the smell as well as find solace in it.

When she calmed down a bit, her brain told her what to do.

And then what was natural after that?

Heavy eyelids pushed open and at first she didn't see anything at all except bright light.

And then, _colour. _

Splashes of colour on white, but this _white_ was also such a vibrant colour. It was bright and brilliant, but it wasn't like that thin vine that was _brown_ – and _that_ was a radiant hue … yet so different from the pink-red drops of colour at the ends of those vines – no, stems – and those were flowers! Tiny splotches of pink dotted the brown, standing out vibrantly, like brave soldiers on a muddy background…

_And she stared forth at the long line of enemy soldiers, past the shoulders of allies in front of her – how were there still so many enemies standing! Fear and desperation clawed at her heart and her breathing accelerated … but then there was a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder, and she looked back to see a splash of silver, a triangle of black –_

The flowers refocused, and she realized it was merely a framed painting.

Her body was resting against the headpiece of the bed, posture slouched so that she was half-sitting instead of lying down as she'd previously thought, and she was completely free to observe her surroundings.

Like the smells, the colours around her began to dim as well until she could allow her gaze wander without becoming unbearably distracted.

It was a small cream-white room with sparse decorations dotting the walls, like that painting across from her and a small wooden cabinet pushed against the side of the room. A chest, also wooden, was placed on her right, and a lamp topped with an umbrella-like hat sat on the chest. There was a window just beyond the chest, sheathed in pale green curtains, and a door was to her left, only a few steps away if she could get up from the bed…

A sudden chill surprised her.

The window wasn't open, so why did she feel cold all of a sudden? But it wasn't really a _physical_ coldness; it was more a cold apprehension. There was something _wrong_ here. She prodded her mind impatiently, becoming increasingly frustrated as she recovered no results.

A small shiver passed through her, and she hunched her shoulders slightly. It was an instinctive response, but one that felt unfamiliar all the same. It was as if lifting her shoulders took much more effort than she _remembered_, as if she was dragging them through a pool of honey. What she remembered would be like a pool of honey, that was.

It was odd, that she could remember such mundane things, like the viscosity of honey and the sting of lemon juice, and yet her mind was so _empty_. She didn't understand _why_ it felt empty, because she couldn't conjure the feeling of it being _full_, but it felt odd nonetheless.

What else was there to think of? Her gaze was fixated on the painting before her, as if it might spring forth with all the answers, but it just remained a branch on which flowers sprung…

Flowers … what were those flowers? Those pink petals, a few falling lightly through the air, the moment captured in the painting … they seemed so familiar. As if … as if she'd –

Everything went blank, as if somebody flicked the off switch. A disappointed sigh escaped her. There had been something profound there she'd realized, and it'd been on the tip of her tongue, but at the last possible moment, her realization had disappeared.

Her eyes felt dry, and she closed them for a moment. _Blinking_, this was called. And she blinked several times, ignoring the _viscosity_ that sprang forth to confront her once again, this time in her eyelids. After a few blinks, the heaviness seemed to lessen slightly.

She inhaled again, taking a long, deep breath.

And that was when she realized what was wrong.

Her eyes had been open, observing her surroundings and taking in this room that seemed like the clean, neat little bedroom of a girl. But there was something that just struck her as inherently _wrong. _

The prevailing scent was that of _antiseptic_.

Antiseptic equalled hospital, not bedroom. It was such a tiny thing, but she remembered the smell of _blood_ too, and that was in the air. The scents in the room did not agree with what she saw.

She felt frustrated again, and she willed the uncomfortable sensation back. This feeling of frustration was not something she found she enjoyed.

She rolled her shoulders, and found that it wasn't so difficult anymore. She'd been observing her surroundings without moving her head, and now she turned her head, feeling the muscles in her neck straining and stretching and relaxing.

A red flash.

She turned so quickly she felt a small muscle scream in pain. The red light had come from a black device at the right corner of the room, and it disappeared as she stilled.

Curious, she turned her head again, keeping her eyes on the device, and it flashed red again before disappearing as she stopped. _Motion detector_, her brain supplied. And that device, it was a _surveillance camera_.

She blinked. A surveillance camera? But why…

Her mind was suddenly distracted as she caught sight of something coming towards her face, and she jumped a little in surprise. When she did, the object moved too.

She realized belatedly that it was her hand, and it had been coming up to comb through the locks of her hair, something her mind told her she did when she was confused. Her hand was at chest-level now, and she observed it with much interest. The skin across the back of her hand was a luminous pale colour, dusted with tiny, tiny hairs that she could barely discern. Long fingers protruded from the main of her hand, ending in elegantly curved fingernails. They looked as if they hadn't been dealt with for a while, because the edges were slightly frayed and unruly, but apart from that, there was perfection there in those half-moons that formed the base of her fingernails, healthy cuticles…

Transfixed, she allowed her hand to rise again, and it rose to her hair. Her fingers came in contact with her scalp, and her eyes widened in surprise at the contact before they dragged through the locks of her hair, bringing strands before her eyes.

Her hair was _pink_, she realized in shock, but part of her viewed the strands with utter indifference. It was something _familiar_, something she had known, but at the same time that first part of her _hadn't_ known. And the length of her hair, which came down a few inches past her shoulders surprised her too, but she didn't know how long she had _expected _it to be, just as she didn't know what colour she'd expected it to be. Brown? Black? Blonde? The choices weren't ridiculous – not like _pink_ – but they were all wrong to that second part of her, that part that had merely raised an eyebrow at seeing that dusty, rosy pink.

There were words flying through her mind, words that she didn't understand until she stopped and thought about them, and things that seemed so ordinary and yet out of place at the same time to her. She couldn't remember anything that had happened, yet sparse litterings of memories stumbled across her thoughts…

A sudden sound woke her from her reverie. It was a dull sound, but it was getting louder, and she realized the thumps were footsteps just as the door opened. Her eyes flickered to the door as she lowered her hand, her movements slow and sluggish.

Through the door came a woman, a halo of dark hair above her white clothing.

The woman moved slowly, turning to smile with steady, kind, brown eyes and full pink lips, a few shades darker than what she'd seen of her own hair. Just by the woman's face, she seemed at a stage dubbed _middle-aged_, which was older than _her_, her brain told her. The woman twisted her body a little, placing a hand on the doorknob and pushing the door closed with a click that was startlingly loud.

"Sorry," she intoned, and her voice was soft and timorous. "I didn't mean to scare you."

The words made sense to her, but her mind took a few seconds to process them. She knew she should reply, but how…

"It's all right," she said quickly, and the girl on the bed wondered if the woman knew what she was thinking. She must have, because of what she said next. "You don't need to push yourself. We will progress slowly, but surely, so don't you worry."

She smiled again – the smile being an upward lift of the corners of her mouth and a crinkling of the eyes. The girl tried to imitate what she had done, and it was surprisingly easy. She succeeded, judging by the look on the woman's face that her brain described as _encouraging_.

The woman motioned towards the bed, "May I?"

The words didn't make sense to her, not really, but she nodded and the woman sat down at the foot of the bed, making the mattress dip. The girl brought her arms closer to her slowly to push herself up to a sitting position. Her back muscles creaked and groaned in response.

"Now, when you're ready, can you tell me your name?"

Her mouth opened automatically, but the voice didn't come forth. Confused, she frowned, a hand coming up to touch her throat tentatively.

"Don't worry," the woman said soothingly. "Don't push yourself."

Slowly, she probed the contents of her mind. What was she supposed to do to make the same sounds the woman had? To _talk_?

A sudden flush of memories. An older woman with red hair, smiling and singing a song, looking down at her. A man, joy written across his face, beaming and congratulating her for _graduating_. A striking raven-haired boy, scowling as he vowed revenge. A shockingly-blond boy, grinning as he promised he'd become _Hokage_ one day. A silver-haired man, telling her everything would be all right…

Her mouth opened again of its own accord, but this time her tongue made movements incomprehensible to her. Vibrations issued from her throat and sound came forth.

"Yes," she rasped, and she knew her voice was hoarse from disuse. It didn't sound _right_, so she cleared her throat. "Yes," she repeated, voice clear and high and in a bell-like peal.

"Now … what is your name?"

"Haruno Sakura."

And _of course_ that's who she was, because her brain was nodding, telling her that _of course_ this was right.

So why did it feel like she had never heard this name before?

~tbc...

* * *

**A/N: Hello munchkins and munchkinsies! So this is the first chapter, which is really more of an introduction (sort of). There's too much in between that I can't really define it, but I will say that this chapter was ****_definitely_**** meant to be vague and totally not understandable. The story description (gosh, I ****_hate_**** having to stay within the limit!) is quite vague as well, so I don't expect ****_anyone_**** to be able to figure out the plot yet :D But by all means, you're welcome to try. **

**Yeah … I probably shouldn't have started this new story but oh well! I deserve a treat after those terrible first two weeks at university, during which I've worked both halves of my ass off. :P Anyhow, keep reading, review, follow … I won't tell you to favourite (yet) because it's only been one chapter! LOL. **

**-Jenni *HUGS***

**P.S. And at the beginning, no, those are ****_not_**** song lyrics. **


	2. Orsorum :Beginning:

**_Some pre-chapter notes: _****I will be ****alternating scenes**** as the story progresses, in case this is confusing anyone, and you'll see what I mean as you read this. So the chapters taking place in Konoha will have titles in bold, and those taking place elsewhere (you'll find out in this chapter) will be italicized. THE LENGTHY DESCRIPTIONS ****_WILL _****THIN OUT. THEY WILL NOT BE OMNIPRESENT, even though it seems like it with these first two chapters! **

**And by the way, you can even skip chapters if you want (so odds or evens), because I'm just trying to experiment with this alternating thing, and it's not going to be perfect …**

**Also, I got a review saying that I use italics a lot, and I just wanted to address it here. That first chapter was a bit difficult for me to write, and I wanted to emphasize all the senses and so on – don't worry, that is ****_not_**** a habit of mine. Judge for yourself with this chapter … and behold! :D**

* * *

_Chapter 2: Orsorum [Beginning]_

I woke to the sound of thundering footsteps outside my bedroom door.

Just in time, because just then, a bright red figure bounded into my room and onto my bed, much like an excited puppy.

"_Neechan!_" the intruder screeched as she bounced up and down on my bed, making the mattress squeak like a dying boar. I winced, mostly due to her shrill voice but also because I was imagining the pain through which she was putting my mattress.

Natsumi was dressed in a blue blouse and a black skirt – both of which, to her credit, were already rumpled. She couldn't have been wearing them for more than an hour. But at least her hair, which normally stuck up everywhere in a big mess of a halo, had been tamed into two neat orange braids.

"Neechan, hurry up and get dressed!" she shrieked, and I winced again, resisting the urge to clap my hands over my ears.

Without making sure I was obeying, she hopped off my bed, her small body making a disproportionate amount of noise as she stomped back out. A smile made its way across my face when I noticed one stocking fell much below the other.

No matter how much my mother dressed Natsumi up to be a proper little lady, we all knew my little sister would come through as the most rambunctious, energetic child to have ever passed through the gates of our village.

I grinned to myself as I began to stretch, stifling a yawn, and get up from the haven that was my bed. It was excruciatingly early; I usually woke when the brightness in my room reached a certain level, but today only weak rays shone through my window, and my mind refused to wake up properly.

But I forced myself to wake up nonetheless for Natsumi.

Today was her first day at the Conservatory and her first day of formal education. Against my parents' protests, she'd stood resolutely with her decision to follow in my footsteps and become a kunoichi of Getsugakure, something that would no doubt earn her much scorn, contempt and ridicule, especially in the beginning. I really didn't know if I should have discouraged or encouraged her; surely it would be too hypocritical to tell her that girls should not strive to be noticed in a patriarchal, chauvinistic country as our own, because that was exactly what I had done, and for the most part, succeeded.

But she wasn't _me_, and she would never have that ability to remain impervious to external influences that I possessed innately. I had wondered, much more than once, whether or not she would be capable of ignoring the snide comments, jibes, and even physical harassment that were sure to come her way from her male classmates, who would make up more than ninety percent of her class.

My parents had barely an inkling of what I'd gone through – for the better or the worse, because if they had known, they wouldn't have let Natsumi enroll – because I had never articulated the problems that had arisen after I had enrolled at the Conservatory. Initially there had been four girls in our class of thirty-four, but by the second week there were only two, including myself. By the end of the year, I was the only girl in the class.

I folded the blanket on my bed and tucked the edges of the sheets under the mattress before picking up my neatly-folded clothing from the chair beside my bed. My parents had always thought it strange that I had this addiction, almost, to cleanliness and order, but I knew that they became _very_ glad of this fact after Natsumi was born, because she turned out to be the absolute opposite.

I pulled on a pair of stretchy black leggings as the voices of my mother and my sister grew louder from outside my room. It was doubtless that they were arguing about the state of my sister's clothing. Over top of leggings I wore a pair of dark-coloured shorts, the only piece of my outfit that was really just a personal touch. The rest of my outfit was standard issued Core uniform, consisting of a black sweater and a dark blue vest, and the hitai-ate that bore the crescent moon symbol of our village, which I usually wore around my neck, to cover the finger print-sized birthmark on my throat more than anything else.

The voices from outside fell silent, but I knew that it was an angry silence rather than a resolved peace. Both Natsumi and my mother were too stubborn.

I pushed the chair to rest under the table, a relatively new addition to my room. Ever since Core had decided to give me missions of increasing difficulty to test my potential, I had been sent on several solo missions, and therefore have had to complete many reports, which were often less interesting than the missions themselves. Every single detail, every possibility and every potential mistake had to be accounted for and documented, so that future generations of shinobi could study from the records.

Shirking the curtains to the side, I opened the window and gazed out at the scene before me for a few seconds – budding flowers, dew-kissed green grass, and the chirp of newly-hatched birds – before walking out of my room and to the kitchen.

Mother was standing by the sink with her back toward me as I entered our small kitchen, mincing some vegetables for lunch. Her long braid of brown hair was slightly frazzled, the way it looked when she was upset or annoyed.

Natsumi was on the floor, scrubbing the ground with a sour expression on her face – I surmised that Mother had set her to cleaning the floors as a punishment for talking back. As soon as she saw me however, the sour expression disappeared and she jumped to her feet, unceremoniously tossing the rag onto the counter.

I grimaced, knowing that counter was the same one on which all our food sat before it was moved to the table for meals. Automatically, I picked it up to wash it at the sink.

Mother's dark gray eyes narrowed as she spotted the cloth in my hands. I knew another rant at Natsumi was coming – after all, it certainly wasn't _my_ job to clean the floors – so hastily I tried to avert her attention.

"Is Father gone so early again?"

Success. Her expression changed from one at the verge of exploding at my sister to one that was perturbed.

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "He's been gone for an hour already."

Mutely, I nodded and threw the now-clean cloth onto the counter again.

What had come up as a mere diversion tactic was now seeding worries in my mind. Father had been setting out for work so early lately because of the sudden wave of new missions, all of which were of utmost importance. Tensions were running high between villages, and had been ever since the Rokudaime Hokage had ascended to the figurative throne, and the new Hokage was the main cause of the discontent. As a result, small villages like ours were striving to make peace treaties with bigger, more powerful villages, and even the most mediocre jounin were being sent out on sensitive and dangerous missions. The spaces left empty by the jounin absent had to be filled with chuunin like my father, and he was always off on odd jobs. Mainly the jobs consisted of paperwork, but occasionally he would have to go out on a classified mission, despite the fact that he hadn't trained properly in years.

Both my parents had been shinobi, but after they'd gotten married my mother had settled into the life of a civilian. She hadn't enjoyed the life of a shinobi; she had only become a kunoichi because she had come from the Fumetsu clan, an old shinobi clan of Getsugakure. She hadn't experienced the full brunt of chauvinistic male behaviour because her clan had trained her, but the offer hadn't been extended to my sister and I because we had deviated too far from the clan's main lineage. In other words, we just weren't important enough.

I didn't try to mediate between my sister and our mother. I knew that this argument would thaw out by the afternoon; for all their disagreements, they were much closer than I was with either.

"Akimi-neechan," Natsumi sang as we walked towards the Conservatory, skipping and swinging her paper lunch bag back and forth. Her sandal-clad feet scuffed the dirt road.

If anything, it was the sheer number of trees that made the otherwise-unremarkable Getsugakure memorable during the day. We didn't have any beautiful monuments or naturals springs. We just had ugly, plain ocean surrounding us and dangerous marine animals like giant piranha. At night however, that was a completely different story…

"Do you think I'll be at the top of my class?"

I gave her what I hoped was a comforting smile. "Remember what I told you? About the techniques I taught you?"

"To 'kick all the boys' pathetic asses?'"

I grimaced. That had been a bad day. "Um, not that part." I lowered my voice slightly, smiling. "I told you those genjutsu were way above the level that any of your classmates will be at, remember?"

A grin made its way across her face, but I knew it wasn't because she loved power. It was because she loved attention, and a display of power would certainly get her just that. Under other circumstances perhaps, I would have warned her against showing off, but where she was going, she _needed_ to make an impression quickly, and it _had_ to be one that intimidated others. Better to be feared than bullied. Hopefully it would be enough.

We neared the Conservatory, a large navy structure amidst grassy fields. The residential area was close, but the trees simply obscured the view.

There were a few other students there already with parents and older siblings, and just as I'd predicted, almost all of them were young boys with smug, superior looks on their faces. Very few of the new students were close to one another, and it was almost completely silent. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. They all started off like this, thinking they were better than the next student. But after a few sparring sessions, the ranks would begin to show, and the inept would be singled out. Simply put, they would be weeded out, and many of them would quit.

A few eyes glanced our way as we drew closer, and they weren't friendly at all. A small hand found its way into mine, and I squeezed it comfortingly.

But on the exterior, I wiped my face clean of all emotions and met the hostile gazes with impassivity and feigned arrogance.

This was the only way in the shinobi world. And true to my calculations, some of the guardians began to turn away, avoiding eye contact with me. I knew some of them recognized me, others recognized the look of superiority, and the remaining few that kept staring were merely curious people, wondering why others had backed down. It was the older generation that needed to be intimidated; my generation was more accepting, though men's needs and wants still took precedence.

Gently but firmly, I pushed Natsumi's hand away. She couldn't show weakness at a critical moment. They were all watching now.

There was one other girl who looked exceptionally frail, and I recognized the young man beside her with a little flutter of my heart.

"Makoto," I greeted him as I subtly steered Natsumi towards the pair, fighting to keep my voice inflectionless as I greedily drank in the sight of him, from the slight glimmer of his auburn hair in the sunlight to the slight sensuous curve of his lips to the slope of his neck and the pulse at his throat.

His expression didn't change very much, and all he did was nod at me in acknowledgement. But I saw that little crinkle in the corners of his dark eyes, even before he winked at me, not as discreetly as I would have expected.

"Your sister?" he asked, adopting the same impersonal tone, even though he knew better than anyone the members of my family. We were the only ones talking, and both of us knew there were many guardians listening in – would the two girls be any threat, or would they just be pretty faces, ready to be bashed?

I noticed that Makoto was wearing a gray sleeveless shirt, baring his pale arms and the black Core tattoo on his right upper arm: a sliver of the moon that enclosed an elegant swirl.

It was an intelligent card to play. By showing that he was, or had been, a member of Core, he was already proving his clan's ability to be above the norm. It was something I hadn't thought of, and the identical tattoo on _my_ arm tingled as though it wanted to be seen. Hopefully the vest would be enough.

"Yes. Natsumi," I said offhandedly, motioning for my sister to step forward. She did, and the two young girls glanced at each other warily.

I could feel the tension roiling off of Natsumi, the result of having absorbed those hostile gazes. I felt a pang of uncertainty now – could she really do this? Already I saw the difference; while gazes like that merely deflected off me, she absorbed all of them and experienced the full brunt.

Makoto nodded to the little girl. "Mayu," the girl said in a timid voice.

Despite her frail looks and hesitant voice, I knew that this girl was not to be reckoned with. The only reason why Makoto wouldn't have trained her to give off an intimidating vibe was because he didn't think she needed it.

I studied the girl, curious also because I'd never actually met Makoto's little sister.

She bore a striking resemblance to her older brother, and she really appeared to be a softer, effeminate version of him.

Another girl had arrived with her father and she peered at us curiously with intense green eyes. She _looked_ stronger than Mayu, but a simple chakra probe told me that she was utterly and completely untrained. I turned my back to her, emanating unfriendliness towards her.

The sky-blue doors of the Conservatory opened, and a chuunin I recognized by face stepped out. He had taken the chuunin exam with me, but he'd failed the first time.

I gazed at him coolly and he nodded at me as he met my eye. It was a form of intimidation, I supposed, and it had worked; he regarded me as the superior.

As he began to usher in the students, I stopped Natsumi and bent down.

Pretending to push a strand of hair back into her braid, I murmured close to her ear, "Keep Mayu close. She'll be a good friend and ally to you, all right?"

Natsumi's eyes were slightly wide, but she nodded before she followed the line of students into the Conservatory, Mayu by her side. There had been a bit of determination in my little sister's eyes, and that was enough. For now.

The adults dispersed, and Makoto and I didn't say share another word before leaving.

But a few minutes later, I reached our grove, panting from the exertion of racing there – _our_ grove being the little clearing on the outskirts of the village, near bay at the heart of the island.

Of course, he was already there with barely a hair out of place, smiling at me. I scowled playfully and launched myself into his ready arms, giving him a decidedly chaste kiss.

"I haven't seen you in so long," I murmured against his lips before pulling away to drink in the sight of his face. His dark eyes gazed back at me with a hint of fondness, something I'd learned to appreciate, because open affection just wasn't natural to either one of us.

There were faint shadows under his eyes, though they were in part obscured by the slight shadow created by his hitai-ate. His features were delicate to begin with, but through training and weathering, he'd sculpted a rougher set of features on top of those fine characteristics. His high cheekbones were more defined today than I'd ever seen them…

"You've lost weight," I stated somewhat accusingly. Taking a step away from him, I slid my hands down his shoulders and ribs in a perfunctory manner, even though I knew his little shiver that ensued wasn't because of the temperature.

"Have I?" he murmured, and his hands travelled from my waist to my hips as he pulled me towards him again. His eyes were hooded and dark as he kissed me again.

As I pulled away, trying to get a bit of _conversation_ in, I noticed something.

"What happened?" I gasped, trailing a light finger down the puckered scar at his temple. It was an angry red, but it looked as if it had already gotten past the stage of scabbing over.

He ducked his head to kiss me again, but I pushed him away firmly this time.

"It wasn't a success, was it?" I asked quietly.

"No," he muttered, and I realized he was avoiding my eye. Did he believe I'd think worse of him because he'd failed an S-class mission?

My hand caught his chin and forced him to look at me. His eyes were unreadable. "It's all right," I whispered. "You can count on me whenever you need it. You know that, right?"

He smiled faintly, but it didn't really reach his eyes. "Of course."

And then he kissed me again, and it was different that time. It was more desperate, more primal; and we didn't speak much after that for a long time.

::~::

We didn't linger long afterwards.

It was too risky, and we couldn't jeopardize the secrecy of our relationship. If anyone important found out, Makoto's neck could be on the line.

I'd met Makoto under uncanny circumstances, to say the very least.

It was a few weeks after I'd returned from passing the chuunin exam in Sunagakure, which was a remarkable feat because Getsugakure usually only produced a few internationally-recognized chuunin per year; most of our jounin had completely forgone the standard chuunin examinations in other countries, and had been promoted to jounin by the Tsukikage straight from being genin.

The village had been pretty quiet at that time because many shinobi had been in meetings at the Tsukikage palace, which made it easier for me to pick out the faint, masked presence that had been tailing me for days by then. It wasn't so much identifying the presence; it was difficult for me even to confirm its existence.

For a total of five weeks, the presence was there, but the level of this follower was so high that I couldn't even trace where he or she was hiding. But five weeks was enough for me to memorize the chakra signature.

Soon after, I embarked on a solo mission that started off as B-class. I was to destroy food supplies in a small industrial village near Konohagakure, and the mission was assigned by Tsuchigakure, with whom we were allies. The mission, which was supposed to be simple, was complicated when I encountered members of Konoha's Root faction. Somehow, they knew exactly what I was about to do and cornered me. I prepared for death.

But just at that moment, I felt that chakra signature again, but it wasn't coming from the Root members. It was a distance away and it was coming closer. I didn't know whether this person was coming to help me or to join the Root members, but the possibility of the latter was enough to make me hesitate, because if it was true, that meant there was an infiltrator in Getsu.

It turned out to be the former. My follower revealed himself to be a masked Core member, who promptly killed off three of the six Root members, and rescued me, leaving the rest. But I saw the markings on their tongues, the seals that forbade them from leaking any secrets. How cruel, I'd thought. How inhumane. That must have been the norm in Konoha though.

He brought me closer to the village and I completed the mission swiftly and rather roughly before returning to my masked saviour, filled with burning curiosity. But when I asked him to explain what was going on, he refused.

He made me vow to say _I_ was the one who killed off the Root members and that I had completed the mission without difficulty. I didn't understand then, but I agreed to the demands of my saviour. He left me without any promises that he would see me ever again, but I knew that if I so much as caught a glimpse of him in the village, I would recognize him from his gait alone, not to mention the voice I'd embedded into my mind.

The next time I met him was nearly a year later, just after I joined Core. I almost failed to recognize him because he'd been unmasked at the party celebrating the recruitment of new Core members. He introduced himself as Makoto. I'd feigned obliviousness and gotten close to him, to the point that we headed back to his place together in what seemed like a drunken stupor. I'd never been so sober my entire life; the only thing I was drinking in was the sight of his face. He was unbelievably handsome.

I knew Makoto recognized me, but I played ignorance well enough that he didn't realize the converse. I found a rare moment of vulnerability (though I myself wasn't in the most guarded mindset either, being half-naked and _quite _turned on) and put him under the strongest genjutsu I could muster.

Or so I had thought.

It had only been a Shadow Clone which dispersed when I'd cast the genjutsu, and the real him was behind me, a kunai in a relaxed hand. We sorted out the confusion, and for some unknown reason he agreed to tell me why he'd been trailing me.

There were two main contenders for the position of the Godaime Tsukikage, one of which was apparently suspected of being a spy from Konoha. Core always served the current Tsukikage, and apparently I was under observation because there had been doubts about _my_ loyalty. When I stated emphatically (and a bit angrily) that I was no traitor, Makoto had merely nodded tiredly.

"I know," he had said, burying his face in his hands wearily, sitting shirtless on the bed. I hadn't really wanted to think about politics just then as his naked upper torso was displayed so enticingly before me, so I … _convinced_ him to continue what we were doing.

Though we started off a bit unconventionally to say the very least, our relationship developed rather slowly and cautiously after that first passionate night.

We met in secret a couple of times, and though it was only from self-consciousness at first, it became more a matter of political discretion as the new Tsukikage was instated and he immediately ordered the death sentences of the former rival and all his supporters. For that time being, my wrongly-accused name had been cleared, but if it was ever revealed that Makoto had saved my life and revealed that I was being followed, and even _why_ I was being followed, the Godaime Tsukikage would not hesitate to use this ruthlessness he had been demonstrating from the very first day.

The realization that Makoto trusted me with his life was probably something that made _me_ trust him in return. It was difficult at first for me to open up to a person who was not either one of my parents or my sister, and a _man_ at that. But he wasn't like the boys in my class, that much was certain. He was older, for one – six years older than me – and he was similar to me in more ways than I'd realized at first. We bonded over insecurities and the inability to speak one's mind freely and we drew closer with stolen kisses and shared ecstasy.

Our furtive encounters weren't enough for me at least, but it was the most we could risk. Eventually as I rose through the ranks of Core, nearing his rank, we were assigned a few missions together, but these missions tended to be deviously difficult and we had little time to think about anything other than that kunai coming straight toward my head.

Relationships were not permitted within Core until you committed ten years of loyal service, so we had to continue with our secrecy.

It was surprising even now how much we both risked, and were still risking, for this relationship. But this was beyond attraction or lust. It was much beyond that.

::~::

In the afternoon, I returned to the Conservatory to pick Natsumi up from school, wearing the same stony expression and cold, dangerous demeanour.

But for all my feigned indifference, I studied the students very carefully as they came out.

The first thing I noticed was that many of them were much more subdued. The first class was never easy, and it was more a test to see who had the guts to stay than anything else. My class had been put under a genjutsu that showed a foreign ninja breaking into the classroom and murdering all the other students. It was a good thing that I specialized in genjutsu, because I don't think I would have been able to stomach it otherwise.

Some of the students' eyes were rimmed with red from crying, including the third girl I'd seen that morning. I was more than satisfied to see that this did not apply to Natsumi as she exited the Conservatory with Mayu by her side. All that had changed about her was the emergence of a certain grimness about her expression, and also the fact that all the boys seemed to give the two of them a wide berth. Had she done something already?

Quiet murmurs broke out from concerned parents as they rushed to their children. It was obvious already which families were from shinobi clans, because they didn't run to their children. It was only the civilians, wholly unfamiliar with the life of a shinobi who blindly rushed to their children.

I knew that the Conservatory wasn't that bad in comparison to pre-genin school in other villages. Kiri used to force friends to kill one another; now it was only prisoners.

When Natsumi finally spotted me, a completely unguarded flash of relief appeared in her eyes, and my diffidence almost failed me, control almost lost.

As it was, I simply nodded to her. She strode towards me rather quickly, hands clenching in her rumpled skirt.

_Neechan, I want to go home_, her expression pleaded, and I took her hand, squeezing it comfortingly. We were about to leave when I noticed Mayu was still there, staring into space blankly. Why hadn't Makoto arrived yet? I sensed vultures circling; if we were to leave her here unguarded, she would be targeted.

Would it be suspicious if I took her back to her house? It would just be seen as an act of kindness, would it not? Not out of familiarity…

"Mayu," I said flatly, and she flinched in surprise before looking up slowly. Her eyes were similar to Makoto's, unreadable obsidian. Had it been any other seven-year-old girl, she would have been frightened, or perturbed at least by my cold tone. But as it was, she returned my expressionless stare. "Come with me."

And obediently, the girl came forth, albeit with a cautious slowness in her light steps. I didn't release Natsumi's hand; it would be better this way, showing the difference between true affection and a mere act of kindness if I didn't take Mayu's hand.

But Natsumi shook my hand away, something she'd never done before.

"Mayu-chan, where do you live?" she asked the other girl, and I deliberately slowed my steps so that I could watch their interactions. Mayu noticed; I could tell by the slight stiffness of her shoulders.

"Um … the Oak wing of the Oyamada estate."

I knew that, of course, because I'd been there with Makoto many times. But it was just as well that Natsumi asked, because I didn't have to feign ignorance now.

Mayu began to relax as Natsumi began to talk in her usual cheerful tone, and the quiet girl even laughed once, a tinkling little giggle. The difference between the two girls was massive and was evident even in the gait each girl had. While Natsumi walked with a little bounce in her steps, Mayu seemed as if she was trying to disappear. Natsumi's two pigtails were a bright orange that glinted in the sunlight; Mayu's short hair was an auburn that was much duller than her brother's.

Everything about Mayu was inconspicuous, except for the fact that it seemed like she was _trying_ to be inconspicuous.

But why wasn't Makoto here yet? It wasn't as if we were on a small road – I was taking the most obvious route to their estate. Surely he would have guessed it was I who was bringing his sister back.

We turned right at the shinobi supplies store and walked in the direction of the Akahashi, the little red bridge that was built over the stream that ran through and segmented the island. There were actually a couple of bridges that made up the Akahashi, and many of them were popular date spots.

Girls like Natsumi also loved the bridges. "Please, please can we stay here for a while?" she pleaded, giving me her best imitation of the village's stray puppies. I couldn't hold back a little smile, a smile that, when Mayu saw it, made her eyes widen.

I nodded, and Natsumi cheered. She loved to watch the brightly-coloured fish from the reefs at the tip of the island which frequented the stream.

She led Mayu down the beaten dirt path so that they were closer to the stream and began pointing out the fish excitedly. I left them there and headed up the path to the bridge, leaning against the wood that was painted red, overlooking the two girls.

I wondered then what had happened that made the boys all back off. Had it been Natsumi who had done something, as I'd suspected initially, or had it been Mayu?

The Oyamada clan was another old Getsugakure shinobi family, but their numbers had dwindled even lower than ours. They specialized in earth and wind-based ninjutsu, a rare combination that led to deadly results in battles. One of their signature jutsus was shooting pellets of compacted earth at speeds so high that they could drill holes through three consecutive century-old trees at high accuracy. If that wasn't enough, there was also their speed with which to contend. They used their wind-based chakra to enhance the speed of their movements, and though it was often difficult for younger members of the clan at first, the chakra manipulation would become second nature.

Their clan techniques were much more versatile than that of the Fumetsu clan; we specialized in genjutsu, and against those with Bloodline Limits that rendered genjutsu useless, we had no chance. We did once have a Bloodline Limit, but not much was known about it and our histories merely say that it was too much trouble and too little gain.

A sudden movement made me snap to attention, and I turned slowly to see a bright red frog on the faded red wood of the bridge. Its harsh yellow eyes stared at me, as if contemplating, and then opened its mouth to croak a series of sounds.

I nodded at it, and it hopped into the water, disappearing immediately.

"We're going now," I called to the girls, who looked up at me reluctantly. But I really did have a reason to go now.

When we reached the estate, it was eerily quiet, and there was no sign of Makoto even when I extended my chakra to search for his presence.

Mayu looked up at me with those unreadable eyes. "Thank you," she said softly, and clasped her thin hands together, bowing.

I nodded at her in acknowledgement.

After she was gone, I hoisted Natsumi onto my back. "There's something I need to do," I explained to her, and I leaped onto the roof of the nearest building, pushing off using chakra with each step.

It took us a couple of minutes to get home, and I had to leave Natsumi with barely a goodbye, for which I felt quite guilty. I hadn't even asked her how the first day had gone. But a summoning from the Tsukikage wasn't to be ignored.

Without Natsumi on my back, I travelled much quicker, and was at the entrance of the Tsukikage's palace in a record eighty-seven seconds.

The guards didn't look twice at me and I strode up the stone steps, into the domineering building.

The Grand Hall's marble floor echoed with each step, and the hall was surprisingly empty. I had expected for all the jounin to be present in some village-wide emergency, but at the end of the hall I could only see five figures.

The current Tsukikage was a fan of grandiose settings, and everybody knew that. He sat on a high throne to make up for his average stature so that he could look down upon his subordinates when he issued commands. The throne was wrought from gold, and planets and marine organisms were engraved into the armrests. The man himself wore the standard Kage robes and hat, as well as his personal look of absolute coldness on his scarred face.

His guard Hachiuma stood by his side, a tall man with startlingly large muscles. He had jet-black hair and multiple piercings on his ears, lips, and eyebrows, and a long, thin sword hung loosely by his side. His main weapon in battle, the sword could be charged with his lightening-based chakra and was particularly deadly at sea. Though the Tsukikage's chakra was water-based, he had no reason to fear Hachiuma, who'd been an orphan in Kumo before the Tsukikage had taken him in and raised him to be a loyal shinobi to Getsu.

Those two were expected sights. What I didn't expect however, was to see a trussed-up man on his knees before the Tsukikage, and my mother's older brother holding a sword to the man's throat.

I also didn't expect to see Makoto.

My mind was in shock, but my body performed the obligatory actions, bowing down to the Tsukikage and staring at the black marble floor in confusion. I could _smell_ the fear rolling off the man.

"Rise," he intoned coldly, and I did.

I tried not to look at Makoto, but the urge overcame me and I glanced at him quickly. He was standing with his body at an angle facing the Tsukikage, bare arms hanging loosely from his sides. But with the familiarity we shared, I could tell that he wasn't as relaxed as he appeared from the slight terseness in his shoulders. His hair was still mussed from our little rendezvous … had he been here for a long time already?

"Akimi-chan," Hachiuma said in his usual silky tone, and I winced, uncomfortable with his tendency to use honorifics that indicated closeness. "You know Makoto-kun, don't you?"

I looked up sharply at him. Had I imagined that amused tone? No, it didn't seem like it…

But the Tsukikage seemed to be oblivious at least.

"Hai, Hachiuma-sama." I didn't know if I wanted him to notice the note of sarcasm in _my_ honorific or not.

"Good, good… And of course you know dear, dear Fumetsu-san." For a muscular-looking man, Hachiuma sure had an annoying, androgynous voice. Of course I knew my uncle, the acclaimed genius of the Fumetsu.

"Get to it," came the cold voice of the Tsukikage. That was a surprise.

Hachiuma's dark lips curved upwards in a smile. "Of course."

He stepped forward, off the platform on which the throne stood, and came towards me. I stiffened, but lowered my head. What the hell was he doing?

A girlish laugh. "Don't be afraid, Aki-chan!" he purred, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up in alarm. He'd always been a bit queer … but _this_?

When his hand cupped my cheek, it was all I could do to keep myself from flinching away.

"You're a dedicated kunoichi of our beloved Getsugakure, aren't you?" he murmured, fingers suddenly pushing my chin up forcefully so that I had to meet his gaze. His eyes were icy shards.

"Of course, Hachiuma-sama," I said quietly. _Show no emotion_, I begged my body, even though fear was pulsing through my veins. Those cold blue eyes … how were they so _empty_?

I couldn't help but look away from his eyes, and instead my gaze landed on his lips, which were red-brown, dark even against his almost-brown skin that was common in Kumo. He was too close to my face, but I couldn't move away…

"Then you have nothing to fear."

And even before his hands made the seals, I saw it on his tongue and I knew what he was about to do.

My body moved instinctively, trying to back away, but the seals were completed and his left hand came up to my throat, throttling me. I choked, and he pushed the thumb of his right hand into my mouth, and pain seared through my mouth, the hottest of it on my tongue.

There was a sharp inhalation to my right as I fell to my knees, Hachiuma having released me.

I felt like I was suffocating, and when I tried to speak, I couldn't.

"Don't worry," Hachiuma's voice came from above. "It'll wear off soon."

My throat felt as if it was swollen and on fire; breath was difficult to draw through the constricted pathway. I gasped, and precious, cool air whistled down my throat.

I fought for breath for about another minute, and then the pain began to recede.

When I could finally speak, the first thing I asked was, pleadingly, "Why?"

_Why were they resorting to using Danzo's seal? _

* * *

**A/N:** **Tell me what you think! As you can see, I'm going to be switching back and forth between two different "stories" – they'll come together in the end! So, to clarify, next one will be in Konoha again. **

**All right, so a couple of notes to wrap up. The "Conservatory" and "Core" are the Getsugakure equivalents of Konoha's "Academy" and "ANBU" respectively. Also an ****_fyi_**** on personality types: Akimi will be a Virgo and Natsumi a Leo … this is ****_very_**** different for me, because I tend to make my characters Cancers, Pisces and Scorpios, being a Cancer myself. I have very, ****_very_**** little experience with Leos and Virgos … I tend to avoid them like influenza. I say influenza because only Capricorns and Aries deserve to be synonymous with the bubonic plague… No offense if you are any of the above. :) And also, yes, I know my OC is another serious one – I just can't seem to stay away from serious OCs, can I? Ah well, too bad. **

**Yes, yes, all very mysterious! :D Things will only start to clear up a bit from here. But just a little swiggle of information: I drew a bit of inspiration from Stephenie Meyer's ****_The Host_****, one of my all-time favourite books. ;) **

**Please review and follow! My updates will be about once a week, I'm hoping!**

**-Jennifer *hugs!***


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